A Little Inclement Weather

A thunderstorm, a picnic, and some unexpected guests!

“You call that a picnic? How can you call that a picnic? That is hardly sufficient to be called a picnic.” Mama paced back and forth through the yellow parlor, hands flailing, voice near a shriek. Afternoon sun peeked through the window, leaving the room just the barest bit uncomfortable. “A mere two baskets? That is not enough—”

“Mama, it is enough for just us, which is all we want.” Elizabeth said softly. That was the best way to respond to Mama when she was shrieky.

“There will be no guests present, so no one will know what was or was not packed.” Jane’s voice soothed like a balm, carried on the fading scent of the just barely wilted autumn crocuses in the blue and white china bowl on the tea table. “What harm can come of it?”

Mama huffed, but her features were softening. That was a very good sign indeed.

“The weather does not look good. See those clouds in the distance. I think it is going to rain.” Mary stood at the window, her back to them, and pointed at the offending clouds through the window.

Kitty and Lydia hurried to peer over her shoulders, pulling the yellow and brocade curtains a side to get a better view.

“I think she may be right,” Kitty said.

“La! Who would have thought? But I am sure she is.” Lydia flounced back toward Elizabeth and Jane, looking less than displeased with the situation. “I do not want to go. With so little food and rain on the way, what is the point?”

The point was that Lydia had wanted to call upon Maria Lucas to meet their cousin who had come to visit them. A handsome man with a newly inherited fortune of ten thousand pounds and a lucrative practice as a barrister. A single, handsome man of good fortune must be in want of a wife, of course.

“Lydia is right, you go on yourselves. I will stay with her.” Kitty wanted to call upon Lucas Lodge as well.

“It is a very good day to practice piano.” Mary did not turn away from the window. Unbeknownst to Lydia or Kitty, she had met the Lucas’s cousin already, by chance on the road, and was singularly unimpressed. Apparently, he did not like a woman who read sermons. One who read novels though, he might feel differently about.

“Then Jane and I will go alone and enjoy the picnic ourselves.” Today Lydia would not have her way.

“I think it will be fun.” Jane smiled that beatific smile she had. “The weather is turning colder and we might not have this opportunity again for quite some time. Pray, Mama, do give us your blessing.”

“Oh, very well. Have it your way. Just make sure you bring your warm shawls in case it turns cooler. And do not go too far. I would not have you walking home in the rain and catching your death of cold.” Mama pressed her handkerchief to her face as though blotting her eyes. Oh, that was a touch melodramatic, was it not?

A quarter of an hour later, with bonnets and shawls, Elizabeth and Jane into the sunshine and fresh air, baskets in hand.

“There is a lovely spot on Oakham Mount, overlooking Netherfield Park—what do you think of that for our picnic?” There was a particularly large tree there that provided some lovely shade and a pair of benches as well.

“That is a lovely spot, but do you not think it is a mite too far away? We promised Mama—”

“Oh, Jane. Look for yourself. There is hardly any chance that we will see rain before dinner time. And even if we do, there will be very little. It is in Mama’s nature to worry. No matter what we do, she will worry. It is not as if we have not been there often and might get lost on the way.”

Jane sighed. “I just do not like making Mama unhappy.”

“I am not so sure that she is unhappy when she worries. I believe she thinks it her duty as a mother to do so, thus she finds it rather gratifying.” Elizabeth set out toward the footpath leading to Oakham Mount.

The climb was easy, just enough to leave one feeling like she had exerted herself and accomplished something, but not enough to be exhausted and missish.

“So, what do you think of Lydia’s quest to meet Maria’s cousin?” Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at Jane whose barely flushed cheeks made a very pretty picture indeed.

Several birds twittered in the trees overhead as Jane laughed softly. “What is unusual with Lydia wanting to meet a new gentleman in the neighborhood.”

“Can you imagine Lydia as a barrister’s wife?”

“I confess it is difficult. They are generally such serious sorts and Lydia is anything but.” A breeze with a sharp cool edge cut through the trees. Jane pulled her shawl a little tighter. “The barrister’s wives I have met have all been rather more ….”

“Serious than Lydia, or even Kitty? Yes, I have seen that as well. I do not think either one of them would do well for that sort of gentleman.” The scent of the wind had changed. Was that a touch of rain on it?

Botheration. Mama would have insisted they change their plans and turn back, but the tree and the benches were just in sight now. They had come so far; it was only right they should enjoy the baskets that Mrs. Hill had cook pack for them.

Jane looked at her, the same question on her face.

“Let us sit down, and we can eat directly. If we head home immediately after, we can still say we enjoyed our picnic.”

Jane frowned just a little. “That sounds very much like being stubborn.”

“I have been called that a time or two. But really, what is the harm in it?” Elizabeth ran ahead, her basket bumping against her leg as she crossed the last stretch to their destination.

The shade of the tree seemed uncomfortably cool. Was the sky growing steadily darker as well?

“I think we should—” Thunder cracked like cannon fire over their heads. Jane screamed.

A sharp wind, no mere breeze now but a biting wind nearly blew Elizabeth’s tightly tied bonnet off her head. A few fat drops of rain plopped on the ground, like a servant announcing the storms arrival. In a show of very poor manners, sheets of rain followed, pelting everything in their reach with sharp biting cold. They huddled close to the tree. Though not entirely dry, it did keep back nearly all the rain.

“Mama is going to scold us—”

“No, it is me she will scold. I will make sure she knows you are the bastion of good sense that you are. We can all acknowledge that I am the instigator of such—”

“Such beastly weather! Can you believe how fast it turned?” A tall, blonde man, probably a gentleman given his garments, dripping wet, stomped into the tree’s shelter line.

“I believe I had warned you that this was likely.” Another man followed, dark, brooding and devastatingly handsome.

Elizabeth gasped, and not entirely because she was startled.

The men stopped and stared, rainwater dripping from the brims of their beaver hats.

“Pray excuse us,” the blonde man bowed. “We did not mean to intrude. The storm, the rain—”

“We will leave directly.” The other turned away.

“You cannot go out into the storm again!” Jane cried. “Pray do not even consider it. There is plenty of room under the tree.”

Lightening flashed in the sky and thunder shook the tree hard enough to cascade previously caught droplets down upon them.

“Are you certain?” the blonde man said. “We would not dare intrude.”

“We should go.”

“It would be unthinkable to send anyone out in such weather. Pray, stay until the rain abates.” Elizabeth pointed at her basket. “We have brought food, surely more than just we two can eat. Will you join us for a picnic?”

“But we have not been introduced.” The brooding man said though another thunder clap.

He was right but a mite irritating.

“This is my sister, Miss Bennet and I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Our father owns Longbourn estate.” Elizabeth curtsied. No, it was by no means a proper introduction, but under the circumstances it was better than standing around looking dumbly at one another.

Jane looked a little horrified. Yes, it was improper, and expedient, and Mama would be scandalized—but then again maybe not. If these men were as gentlemanly as they appeared, it could be exactly the sort of thing Mama might have orchestrated herself. Heavens, she might even take credit for it all if she knew. Assuming they were proper gentlemen of course.

The blonde man removed his hat and bowed. “I am Bingley, and my friend here is Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley. I have just let Netherfield Park, which I believe borders Longbourn.”

Mr. Darcy, removed his hat and bowed from his shoulders. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Somehow his words did not quite agree. Were she and Jane not to his liking? Not high enough in society perhaps? Perhaps he just had bad manners all together.

“You must forgive, Darcy; he assured me that it would rain today, and we would regret choosing this afternoon to survey Netherfield from the top of Oakham Mount. He likes being right as much as the next man, I am sure, but not so much at the expense of getting sopping wet in a storm he would otherwise have avoided.”

That softened Mr. Darcy’s expression. Interesting, a man of few words perhaps?

“Pray eat with us while we wait.” Jane removed a white linen cloth from the basket and spread it out on the mostly dry ground between the benches.

“We could not dream of imposing so.” Mr. Darcy edged a step back.

“It is no imposition.” Jane sat down so gracefully it looked like a dance and patted the cloth beside her. “My sister and I could not possibly enjoy our lunch with you just watching us eat. And we cannot possibly see you turned out into the rain. So far from it being an imposition, it would be a favor to us.” Then she smiled that smile that no one could disagree with.

Mr. Bingley glanced at Mr. Darcy and shrugged. He sat near Jane, not so near as to be impertinent, but near enough to be friendly.

“Shall we, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth gestured toward Jane who was spreading with the contents of her basket. “I do not imagine a man of your breeding would be happy to keep your hostess waiting.” She cocked her eyebrow, teasing just a bit.

Was he the sort of man who like to be teased? Probably not, but little matter. This was not likely to be an acquaintance of long duration. He was not from nearby.

“Very well,” he said with as much dignity as a man with rain dripping off his nose could.

They sat at the other end of the cloth and Elizabeth unpacked her basket. In retrospect, Mama was right; it was a meager selection for an actual picnic. But since it should appear to the two gentlemen that this was only a casual affair for a pair of sisters, they should not judge them too poorly.

Hopefully.

“Oh, I do say, I love cold ham on fresh bread with horseradish!” Mr. Bingley slathered the condiment over a large slice of ham.

Jane blushed prettily. Odd how she, with such a mild disposition, so enjoyed that peppery sauce.

“And you, Mr. Darcy, do you prefer ham, or perhaps chicken?” Elizabeth gestured at the two dishes.

“I am sure he would rather read a book.” Mr. Bingley chuckled and took a rather large bite.

“You are a great reader?” Elizabeth handed Mr. Darcy a plate.

“I find the improvement of one’s mind an admirable exercise.” He placed bread, chicken, pickles and a small wedge of cheese on his plate.

“So, you read histories then, I imagine?” Elizabeth glanced back at Mr. Bingley whose smile grew.

“Do not be so stuffy, Darcy. I saw that gothic novel you were reading. Something about Udolpho I think.”

“My sister had asked my opinion of it and whether or not it was appropriate reading material for a girl of fifteen.”

“Our sister Lydia is that same age. Though she is not a great reader, I believe she expressed interest in that book when I was reading it. What is your opinion? I am very interested to hear.” Elizabeth filled her plate.

His eyebrows knit—did he disapprove? Would he rebuke her for daring to read such a thing? Not that his opinion really mattered, but it could make things rather uncomfortable.

“It seems as though you have formed your own opinions.” Mr. Darcy set his plate down and stared at her. He had remarkable eyes. And they were trained directly on her.

Thunder clapped again. Or was that the flutter of her heart? “Perhaps I have.” Would he disapprove? Why did it suddenly matter?

“I would be most interested in hearing them. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon than listening to a woman who has improved her mind with extensive reading.”

And worse ways to wait out inclement weather thanunder the attention of a handsome man who approved of women who read novels.